


Cancer

by orphan_account



Category: Avengers
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-11-19
Updated: 2012-11-19
Packaged: 2017-11-19 01:48:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/567689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>More like nope.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cancer

_No. This can't be happening. This wasn't a part of the plan! You didn't even have time to think of a plan, let alone set it in motion! And now here you were. Alone. Except not. You were surrounded by people, staring down at you, mumbling things, whispering things, yelling things, asking you things, what were they even saying? You try to move but one of them nudges you down. You smack their hand away. You know them to be mortals. You hated them. They shouldn't be allowed to touch you. You growl at them, and they back away some._  
 _Where were you? Where could you go to escape them? There had to be a way out. You shakily get to your feet and push people aside, stumbling out of the circle. You can hear them calling after you. You quicken your pace, trying to clear your mind so you could get away, get away from these filthy mortals! They try and grab at you, to pull you back, but you tug away and keep going, running now. Everything was dark. And so closed in. Where were you, where? The path you're taking suddenly takes are sharp turn to the right. You press yourself up the wall you run into and use it to push off down the path again, all the while hearing their voices echoing behind you._  
 _But it stops. You come to an end, a dead end. You glance around, the voices are getting closer. There. A hole in the wall to your left. You desperately tug at the edges of it until it's open wide enough for you to crawl through. You squeeze in and build up the sides again, then run down to another corner in this pitch blackness, huddling up into a ball. There it is. The voices. Your mind has cleared now, and you can tell it's a woman and a man. It seems only two cared enough to search for you. Pathetic. They stop at the end of the wall and talk for a while, mentioning the hole you crawled through, and something about an abandoned building? But then they leave. Now you were actually alone. In this blackness. Powerless._  
 _Just another mortal._  
    Needless to say, Loki Laufeyson's second trip to Earth was much less interesting or exciting. Or productive. This was a punishment, not a piece of a plan. He was meant to suffer here. And he already was. His eyes had started to adjust now, and he could see that he was in what he assumed to be a Midgardian storage room. But it looked unused now. It had a few boxes here and there, but most of them were broken or falling apart. The walls were chipping, the only set of stairs that seemed to lead out of this place were rotten and missing steps.   
    He felt he could be "safe" here. It wasn't the lavish, golden, large chambers he was used to, but he expected no less than this. He would have to put up with it. After what he did a few months ago, if anyone caught a glimpse of him he could be arrested and killed. But no. That wouldn't happen. He would regain his powers and make his fath- _adoptive_ father and _half_ -brother pay for what they had done! That is always how it went. Little Loki Laufeyson would make his plan here, and once he got back his powers, it would all work out. With him on top. That's how it always went, right? Right? Of course that was how it went. Of course. This would work. This would work...  
    *    *    *    *  
     _Ugh. Hm? What? Another project? But you already had these two to do! Sigh. Yes, boss. They'll be done by Friday. What!? But-! I, yes, sorry. They'll be done by Thursday. Guess that means two more nights of no sleep._  
    When did Azalea ever think getting a job at the New York Times would ever be easy? When did that ever cross her mind? Oh yeah. It didn't, really. She was persuaded. By her friend, Jo, the editor everyone knew and loved. Yeah, that was it. This was never easy. Jo just made it sound so easy. _You'll do great! You're a cartoonist already, right? This'll be so easy, and you'll get quite the paycheck! It's a win/win situation right? So c'mon, what'll you say? I've already suggested you to the head honcho, and he thinks you sound like a pretty sweet gal!_ _This is going to be great._ Yeah, Jo, thanks. Gal pals five-ever. Maybe Azalea could write a suicide note in the form of a cartoon and they'll print it in the newspaper. Har har.  
    Three cartoons due by Thursday. By _Thursday_. It was already Tuesday! What was this, some form of torture? Did she say something wrong? Maybe Jo overestimated her abilities and made the boss think she were better than she really was. She lets a long sigh leave her lips before straightening up in her chair and getting to work. Better get started now, Heaven knew she wasn't going to get much done at home. She picked up her pencil and start scribbling down ideas for the newest stories. What a living.

**Author's Note:**

> Holy shit what I am even doing.


End file.
